


With a Whimper

by Todesengel



Category: due South
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-29
Updated: 2007-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel





	With a Whimper

This is how the story ends.

He moves to Miami with Stella Kowalski and opens up a bowling alley and that's all true except for the bit about the bowling alley because Ray's a cop and even though they won't let him be a cop anymore, that's what he's always been and that's what he's always wanted to be and that’s what he'll be even if he doesn't have a shield or a gun or a precinct. Besides, what does he know about bowling?

So it's all true except for the bowling alley and the bit about Kowalski because yeah she's down there with him but only to keep grilling him on what he did, what he saw, what names he can give her from the year he spent in Nevada wearing the suits he always wanted to wear and being the guy he never wanted to be. And it's fine while he's on the pain killers but those wear off quick and then it's just hour after hour of her asking the same question a thousand different ways and there's a lot of things about that year that he'd really rather not relive and she drags them out and lays 'em out in the harsh Florida sun and he can't hide from them, not anymore. He has to stop pretending that he's really a decent guy because he isn't and he can't pretend that there wasn't a moment – fleeting as it was – in that hotel bathroom when he'd actually forgotten that he wasn't who he was pretending to be and almost killed his best friend for a second time and it wouldn't be the first time Armando's hands got dirty.

It's all lies except for Miami, and he hates Miami.

He dreams of Chicago every night -- dreams of the wind howling off the lake, of the El rattling past, of real food, of knowing who he was and how he got there and knowing his place through the soles of his feet.

And then he wakes up to sunshine and the smell of orange blossoms and another day of just passing time until he dies because he has no illusions about his life expectancy, and neither does Kowalski, which is why she's making video tapes of him speaking into being the life he'd been forced into – "just in case".

Every day wondering how he's going to die and who's going to kill him – because his words are going to take down a lot of people and he's got tapes of his own and knows where all the bodies are – and then the Mountie appears.

Seeing Fraser is like getting shot all over again, because Ray's said goodbye to him twice, words spoken through the static of a phone call to the top of the world, and the second time he was sure it was forever.

And yet, here he is, standing on Ray's doorstep in the muggy Florida heat wearing his red wool tunic and all Ray can do is stare.

"Hello Ray," Fraser says.

"Jesus," Ray says because he's not sure this isn't some kind of hallucination. "Christ. What the hell are you doing here?"

Fraser looks down. Rubs his thumb along one eyebrow. Looks back up and gestures behind him with the hand holding his hat. "I was in the neighborhood and –"

"You were in the neighborhood? Benny, what the hell are you doing in this neighborhood?"

"I—" Fraser repeats the look-rub-look move and clears his throat. "Well, I'd rather not say."

Ray stares again because it's – well, it's like old times and there shouldn't have been any more old times left between them. After a while he laughs, soft and mostly to himself and he opens the door and steps back and says, "Well, you coming in or you want to die of heat stroke?"

"Actually Ray, it would require at least another –" Fraser begins, and then he stops, smiles in that thin, tight-lipped way he has when he's not really smiling, and shakes his head. "Never mind. Thank you kindly."

Ray shrugs and closes the door after him. He gestures at the couch and Fraser sits and he doesn't, just leans up against the door for a while, watching Fraser watching him and letting the cool, processed air from the a/c wash over him like a weak, lakeshore breeze.

"So," he says at last and pushes away from the door. He goes to the kitchen and grabs a couple of bottles of water out of the fridge. "You and uh –" and he doesn't know what to call the other him because to him Kowalski is Kowalski and Kowalski isn't the guy riding in dogsleds with Fraser. "You guys ever find that thing, that hand thing?"

"Yes, actually, and the really interesting thing was –"

"It wasn't a real hand, right? It was a, whatchamacall, a metaphor, right?"

"Yes Ray. It wasn't a real hand." Fraser frowns down at the bottled water Ray tosses him. "Ray I'd really—"

"Don't drink the tap water here, Benny. It'll kill you."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"Tastes like a swimming pool, Benny, a goddamn swimming pool and what the hell are you doing here?"

"Like I said, I was—"

"In the neighborhood. Right." Ray sits down. Stands up. Sits down again. Leans forward with his hands clasped so tight they make his knuckles white because, really, how many times is Fraser going to make him say goodbye? "Benny, don't do this."

"Do what, Ray?" he says and that's something Ray hasn't had time to get used to yet, the way Benny's learned how to lie.

"Don't do this to me, Benny. I'm begging you here. Don't—don't stand outside my door, don't look for them, don't hunt 'em down. Just. Just go back to Canada and. Just go back to Canada. Just stay outta this."

"Ray I—" Fraser pauses, licks his lips. "Ray. You're my friend. I can't just—"

"Yeah Benny. You can. You gotta trust me on this. There's nothing you can do." Ray stands and paces, back and forth, walking the path he walks in the evenings when it's just him and his thoughts and the skeletons hanging out in the corners of his eyes.

"Understood." Fraser stands up and Ray knows that look. He stops pacing and starts shaking his head.

"Jesus. Sometimes, y'know, you're a real fucking idiot." Ray runs his hand over his head a couple of times. "But then again, look at me, thinkin' I could talk you outta this."

Fraser smiles – a real smile – and Ray only realizes how much he'd missed that until he's hit with it.

He clears his throat and looks away.

The hug is unexpected, and a little awkward, because it's mostly just Fraser holding him tight and Ray isn't sure what he should make of this moment, of the way Fraser somehow manages to wrap him up in peace and snow and the certainty that the good guys will always triumph even when Ray knows that to be a lie.

"It's good to see you Ray," Fraser says at last.

Ray swallows and nods against Fraser's shoulder. "Yeah Benny. It's good to see you too."

++++

This is how the story ends.

It's all lies except Miami and the truths Ray tells to Stella, about the men he's killed and the bodies he's buried and the ways to take down the Mob. All lies and death is the only truth he has left and he waits for it and waits for it and then the Mountie shows up and he stops looking over his shoulder and that's when it comes because even the Mountie was a lie and the second goodbye was the last one he'd ever say to Fraser.

Except Ray doesn't figure this out until the kid bumps him in the grocery store and he suddenly has a knife in his belly and his life bleeding all over his hands and he's looking around for Fraser. But of course Fraser isn't there – Fraser's somewhere up on the top of the world, looking for a thing that can't be found and Ray is here, sagging against a cold glass door and laughing at himself for being an idiot, because the good guys only won when Fraser was around and anyway Ray's not even sure he still qualifies as a 'good guy' anymore.

So that's how this story ends. One guy's dead and the other one's missing. And there's heat and cold and a magic that fades when the magician is gone.


End file.
